This dream world was a vast and bizarrely desaturated space, perhaps entirely different from the other. At the center of this desolate place stood a majestic and colossal tree whose treetop wasn’t visible from below. A curious and contemplative girl was seen 50 meters away, looking almost like a tiny ant before the towering titan of nature.

Wearing a long-sleeved white shirt and pajama pants, Naomi walked slowly toward the tree, near which was an 8-year-old child with crimson hair and matching eyes. The little boy wore clothes that seemed to date back to times much older than the grandfathers and grandmothers of Ganeden—a slightly loose white tunic, a dark brown turtleneck scarf, and a sash belt of the same color. The accessory that stood out the most was the cross-shaped pendant he wore around his neck.

“Why are you alone?” the lass asked with a sad gaze.

The lad didn’t react, giving the impression that he hadn’t even heard her. It was as if she, perhaps he, weren’t there at all, or maybe it was all just a figment of her imagination.

“…I see. You have no one but yourself, just like me” Naomi tilted her head and said, now wearing a heavier frown.

The tree’s leaves rustled as a light breeze swept through them, stirring the little one’s hair as well. He raised his head and opened his mouth in surprise for no apparent reason. Shortly after, the kid began running recklessly forward, his eyes fixed on the empty horizon.

“Where are you going?” the young woman, quickly left behind, still asked him.

It was a meaningless question, for even the goldfinch did not know where he was going or where he ought to go. He was merely fleeing from loneliness, with the future as his sole destination.

A single gust of wind stirred the dream world, and Naomi had to close her eyes for a brief moment to keep the dust out. When Naomi reopened them, she raised her eyebrows to see that the child was still running without a trace of hesitation and with a contagious smile on his face. A girl his age, with turquoise-blue hair and a long, fluid tunic, appeared smiling at his side and accompanied him.

Soon after, a second lad popped up as if by magic. He had dark green hair with long, uneven locks, and his outfit was very similar to the first’s. The three of them smiled as if they were the happiest people in the universe, and ran together like there were no tomorrow. Naomi stood dumbfounded, and would remain so as more people gathered around the kid, who was finally no longer alone. The trio of friends had grown a few inches taller, and the lass was now a beautiful woman wearing a crescent moon necklace, while the dark-green-eyed teenager wore his hair tied back in a small ponytail.

Naomi smiled, happy for the flame-haired youth, once just a flightless goldfinch. However, happiness would eventually abandon him, perchance due to a twist of fate. Time stopped abruptly for the teen, who stood frozen like a broken machine, and his companions consequently trickled out of the scene in a cascade, until not a single soul remained.

The orange-haired girl hurried over to him—now a 19-year-old young man—hoping to see spread across his face that very smile that had once allowed him to overcome adversity and make the most of every day like it was the last. Yet, what she actually saw sent a chill down her spine. Despair had conquered hope.

🐍🐍🐍

Naomi Setsuko woke up, snapping out of an extraordinary dream. The lass turned over in her bed, slightly curled up beneath a blanket.

“Another dream” Naomi said with a thoughtful expression.

The teen had these sorts of dreams before, featuring people she was certain she had never seen in her life, but they were happening more frequently as of late.

In case I haven’t introduced myself yet, my name is Naomi Setsuko, I’m 16 years old, and I study at a local school on this huge Asian island called Ganeden.

I’m not a brilliant student, though my mom always told me I was smarter than I thought, so I’ve been trying to make her proud. As for my parents, my mom passed away from a chronic illness exactly three years ago today, and my dad died when I was little, so I didn’t get to meet him.

That said, I’ve always had the support of my closest relatives, and my friends never made me feel alone. Ah, that last part is a lie. I might look super cheerful on the outside, but the truth is, every day drags on for me.

Is there someone who can fill this void in my heart…?

“I wonder how he’s doing now…” Naomi sighed and murmured as Lied’s tearful face flashed into her mind.

🐍🐍🐍

Ganeden, Police Department

In one of the offices of the island’s only police station, two charismatic detectives—a slender 17-year-old boy with light blue hair and eyes, wearing a vest with a matching light blue tie over a short-sleeved white shirt and black trousers, and a slightly chubby 52-year-old man, somewhat shorter than the teenager, with spiky light brown hair at the back and eyes of the same shade, wearing a short-sleeved shirt with a red tie, red suspenders, and chinos—who were also father and son, were catching up.

“How’s school?” the father, Tatsuo Shinichi, who was sitting at a desk with half a dozen papers, a pen holder, and various other things, asked.

“It’s going well” his son, Susumu Shinichi, standing with his hands in his pockets, replied without taking his eyes off the documents on the desk.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right? I mean, a student working as a part-time detective? It makes me look like a bad father. You should just enjoy your school life” Tatsuo said quite honestly.

“Thanks, but you don’t have to worry, Dad” Susumu reassured him and then became curious about a criminal investigation report on Tatsuo’s desk, picking up the paper and staring intently at it.

“The accident that happened four days ago. Two people are thought to be dead, although their bodies haven’t been found yet. The sole survivor—their son—is still missing” the veteran detective explained the case.

“An accident, huh?” Susumu fixed his gaze on Lied’s photo and said, not entirely convinced.

🐍🐍🐍

Late afternoon arrived in Ganeden, and the school bell rang, marking the end of another day of classes. Naomi left school with three friends who chatted incessantly, nodding and laughing half-heartedly, constantly putting on a fake smile that hurt her so much inside, yet one she had grown used to living with.

“Look, it’s the Student Council President!” the short-haired student said upon recognizing Susumu, who was waiting by the gate for someone he could question about Lied.

“Susumu-senpai is so handsome…” the most talkative girl in the group said, completely smitten with the detective.

“Do you think he has a girlfriend?” the other long-haired girl asked, equally head over heels for him.

Susumu sighed, ignoring their perfectly audible comments, and continued showing a photograph of Lied to the passing students, asking them if they knew anything that could help track down the missing student. However, Lied was not particularly popular, and no friends or even classmates were known with whom he at least talked, since Lied was not exactly a diligent student.

“I better ask the teachers…”

Susumu thought.

Naomi tried to slip past Susumu unnoticed, feeling a little guilty for hiding the truth—which, to her, was the same as lying. But, after witnessing Lied’s anguish firsthand, she didn’t feel comfortable sharing what she knew, considering that doing so would be indirectly interfering with his grief.

Naomi’s discomfort did not go unnoticed by the young man, whose detective intuition told him to approach her. And that was precisely what Susumu did as he spontaneously placed a hand on her shoulder. Caught off guard, the young woman turned almost instinctively to face him.

“Hello. Sorry to bother you, but I’m looking for this boy” Susumu showed Lied’s photograph and said “He’s a second-year student who’s been missing since last week” the teenager explained.

Naomi raised her eyebrows at the sight of Lied’s face and listened reluctantly to the Student Council President, yet it was hard for her to hide her discomfort.

“I haven’t seen him” the young woman said, shaking her head with little conviction.

Susumu studied her with the sharp eye of a facial expression analyst. Despite his young age, he was already one of the best on the force at reading body language.

“Here’s my number. Please call me if you have any new information” the lad said, handing her a police contact card, and walked away with his hands in his pockets.

Naomi reluctantly tucked the card into her bag and left the school with a heavy gaze. The wary Susumu stopped walking for a moment and stared at her one last time.

🐍🐍🐍

Naomi could think of nothing else but getting home to rest her mind when she ran into a familiar figure right in the middle of the street: the crimson-haired, red-eyed kid from her dreams, looking about 12 years old, though bearing an X-shaped scar across the bridge of his nose.

The spitting image of the goldfinch stared at Naomi and gave her a somewhat mischievous smile.

“You are…” she said, dumbfounded.

The kid broke into a run, almost as if inviting her to a game of tag. He turned left, without bothering to look back to see if Naomi was following him.

“Hey! Please, wait!” she called out and went after him.

🐍🐍🐍

Lied woke up after a good night’s sleep in a small, modest apartment. He glanced to his left, and coincidentally saw an apple on the bedside table.

“Was he the one who brought me here?

” the lad thought, as the image of the white-hooded figure pointing his index finger at him flashed into his mind.

Lied peeled the band-aid off his cheek and stared back at the fruit on the bedside table. The young man placed a hand on his stomach upon hearing it rumble, remembering the assassin, the mysterious woman, and finally, the hooded figure and the question he had asked him before putting him to sleep.

Lied reflected and clenched his fist decisively. He already had his answer.

🐍🐍🐍

Susumu had not missed Naomi’s irresolute expression, who he’d have to question later. If the school could not help in the search for the truth behind the case that deeply intrigued him, then there was only one place in Ganeden holding the answers the teen sought.

Susumu lifted the police tape cordoning off the area around Lied’s house. The authorities had obviously already inspected and investigated the scene, but a different set of eyes like his could uncover clues invisible to conventional police methods.

“Was it really an accident? There’s only one way to find out”

the teen approached an exterior wall as he thought, resting his hand on it and closing his eyes to focus.

Susumu saw Lied running fearlessly under the threat of waves of fire and later being lifted into the air by the bizarre power of a figure with long black hair. The last mental image the youth glimpsed was that of the Fujitas’ unconscious son.

“A second person was not expected” a soft voice suddenly spoke, and the detective—who hadn’t even had time to process the flashback—spun around, but the strange presence that could still be felt had vanished.

Susumu drew the handgun his father had given him for emergencies and opened the door. The teenager cautiously entered the two-story detached house and found, seated on the stairs with his hands on his knees, a 22-year-old youth with ebony hair falling slightly over his forehead and lilac eyes, wearing a black overcoat with gold details, trousers, and boots.

“Who are you?!” Susumu pointed his gun at him and fired off the question.

“You’re finally here” the mysterious man stated, seemingly addressing the boy in the tie, when in reality the focus was on someone else.

“What?” Susumu said before turning to confront the newcomer lurking at the entrance.

The detective lowered his pistol and glanced to his right, where Lied had appeared uninvited, wearing his usual sour expression. Susumu was incredulous; he hadn’t expected to run into him so soon.

“It seems Zechariah was right” the stern man stated and continued “’He will definitely return to the place where it all began’” he finished, quoting somebody else.

“Is Zechariah the guy who killed my parents?” Lied associated the name with the lanky figure he had seen amid the flames that fateful afternoon.

“Who knows?” the man replied with a trace of irony.

Lied ignored the enemy for a second to face Susumu, who needed an explanation. The pale-green-eyed young man, however, had other priorities.

“I’ll answer all your questions after I’m done here” Lied told the detective, looking ahead.

Susumu, still slightly rattled by the appearance of the lad who had been missing for four days, regained his focus and stepped forward, determined to do his job.

“Well, I’d rather not wait too long” the light-blue-haired teenager said.

“Do as you wish” Lied said, not taking his eyes off the enemy.

The lilac-eyed individual had meanwhile overheard their conversation, remaining composed even in a numerically disadvantaged scenario. He sighed and rested his chin on his right hand.

“You’ve probably figured out by now that it’s not our intention to kill you” the trench-coated figure stared at Lied “If that were the case, you wouldn’t be alive right now, would you?” he presented an irrefutable argument in the form of a rhetorical question.

Indeed, Lied had clearly been spared by Zechariah, who could have killed him if he so wished. There had to be a reason behind that humiliation, if only for self-consolation.

“Then…” Susumu tried to speak, before being interrupted by Lied.

“…Why did you let me live?” the Fujitas’ son asked, with his right hand in one of his trouser pockets.

“A reason, huh?” the trench-coated individual said, and then rose from the steps “Destiny is reserved for those who are chosen. And you are…”

The man vanished and reappeared in front of Lied at superhuman speed, surrounded by a lilac aura. The former’s menacing gaze locked with the latter’s, who remained motionless.

“…one of them” the trench-coated individual concluded decisively.

Susumu gritted his teeth as he came face to face with the enemy just a few meters away, quick as lightning and impossible to predict. He fired his gun without a second thought, but the bullet inexplicably passed right through the suspect’s body and pierced the wall. Shortly after, the man vanished from the face of the earth, leaving Susumu even more astounded.

“Where did he go?!”

the detective thought, looking nervously around.

Susumu locked his eyes on Lied. He didn’t look injured, but stood strangely still, as if he had turned into a statue in an instant.

“What’s wrong?” the detective asked, receiving no response “Say something!” Susumu pleaded, waving a hand inches from Lied’s line of sight in an attempt to snap him out of his inertia, but in vain.

Just as his father had taught him to do in critical moments, the detective took a deep breath, pulled his phone from his pants pocket, and called the police for backup.

🐍🐍🐍

Before he knew it, Lied had already been dragged into the realm of his dreams—the dark, cold dimension his subconscious supposedly conjured to torment him during his slumber.

He gazed at the golden apple resting on the red velvet cloth atop the pedestal.

“This place is… from my dreams. But why?” Lied said.

The boy suddenly sensed a new and familiar presence near him, and as if by magic, the indifferent accomplice of the detestable Zechariah appeared before Lied.

“That’s because it does exist in your reality” the suspect stated solemnly.

“How are you even able to be here?!” the lad asked, astonished.

“This is your ‘soul’—the physical manifestation of the spirit” the enemy said, gesturing with his right hand.

“Soul? Spirit?” the host of the soul said, visibly confused.

“In other words, your own mind” the suspect said, ceasing his gestures.

The enemy walked over to the pedestal and paused to observe the fruit, as if confirming with his own eyes the authenticity of the object that fascinated everyone.

“What are you planning to do?” Lied asked, gritting his teeth.

The suspect reached out, and the apple glowed before he could touch it, taking both of them by surprise. Small, sharp roots sprouted instantly around the dome, deterring the intruder from whatever his intentions were.

“Just as I expected, it appears I’m not welcome here” the suspect said with a sober expression, taking a step back.

🐍🐍🐍

Five minutes later

Susumu had been informed that his father was occupied with other matters and would therefore not be part of the police reinforcement unit set to arrive at the scene shortly. The youth was, thus, left waiting for his backup as well as for Lied, who remained petrified.

Just as Susumu was about to lose his patience, the suspect reappeared out of nowhere, followed by the Fujitas’ son, who awoke from his inertia.

The detective couldn’t grasp the situation. Not only had Lied begun to move again, but the figure also returned after vanishing without a trace.

“Hey, are you alright?” Susumu asked Lied, who seemed somewhat disoriented.

Police sirens were starting to echo outside, meaning it was time to draw the curtains on this chapter. With that, Lied gritted his teeth, clutched his shirt as if to slow his beating heart, and glared at the enigmatic figure, unwilling to miss a single opportunity to get answers.

“Who… and what… are you?” the teen asked through short gasps.

The man in the overcoat seemed to hesitate for a moment, a gesture of humanity—and perhaps something more. In the end, he turned his back on Lied and Susumu with the same coldness as before.

“My name is Varius. As for what I am… yes, one of the chosen” Varius said, gazing at the bearer of the golden apple, only to vanish moments later as if he had never been there.

Lied stood with his head bowed, not because he necessarily felt defeated, but because that visit to his soul had been incredibly draining.

Meanwhile, two police officers entered the house and, at Susumu’s direction, escorted the Fujitas’ son to the car.

The detective followed them, though not before one last look at the bullet he had fired at Varius, which could still be seen lodged in the wall.

🐍🐍🐍

Four minutes later

As night fell, there were fewer and fewer people lingering in the park and around Ganeden’s governmental headquarters—a large building adjoining the gardens that looked imposing over the island. It was the ideal time for secret meetings, like the one about to begin in a room seldom used by the staff of that public complex.

On the wall above the rectangular table, a portrait of a blue-eyed, blond-haired man in his sixties stood out, dressed in formal attire, with a neatly trimmed mustache and a beard on his chin. It was the former ruler of Ganeden, an iconic figure in the history of this small nation.

Of the five heavy wooden seats—evocative of a “high clergy” style—four were occupied. At the far end of the table, 33-year-old Zechariah could be seen resting his chin on his left hand, sporting a relaxed smile. To his left sat Martyr, a 23-year-old man with long, spiky blond hair, wearing a black high-necked coat with a gold trim, trousers, and boots; much like the murderer of Lied’s parents, he rested his face on his right hand. Across from him sat 12-year-old Nemo, a boy with short light-brown hair and hazel eyes, wearing a black short-sleeved shirt, trousers, and boots matching the uniform pattern of the other two; he kept his arms crossed over the table and wore a displeased look. Finally, beside Martyr sat 16-year-old Core Drusilla—a lass with short, dark-blue locks, wearing a sleeveless vest and a small golden-yellow ribbon tie beneath a white collar, along with trousers and boots identical to Nemo’s—whose sapphire eyes were fixed on a book.

“Ugh, this room is full of dust. Couldn’t we have found a better place to meet?” Nemo said with a disgusted look, brushing the dust off the table.

“No one asked for your opinion” Core said dismissively, without taking her eyes off the book.

“What did you say?” the impudent young man reacted, seething.

“Now, now, calm yourselves” Zechariah said with his arms crossed and eyes closed, never losing his smug smile.

“Shut the HELL up, both of you!” Martyr said, furious, slamming his hands on the table.

As the rowdy group bickered among themselves, the door to the room opened and Varius entered: sober and dull, indifferent to the petty squabbles, and permanently distant from an emotional standpoint.

“Oh, Varius. How’d it go?” Zechariah asked with a wide grin.

22-year-old Varius sat in the empty seat beside Nemo, who had tempered his attitude to listen to his enigmatic companion’s report. In truth, Varius was an extremely difficult person to read—someone who deliberately hid his emotions from others.

“I have confirmed the existence of the Adam’s Apple. As we suspected, it’s untouchable” the young man in the overcoat said, with his hands clasped over the table.

“I see” Zechariah said in a solemn tone, showing no surprise.

In response, the unpredictable and grumpy Martyr rested his feet on the table and began banging them against the wood. The innocent victim in all this was Core’s book, stepped on to no end. Being a rather calm and patient young woman, she didn’t get worked up and merely waited for her companion to settle down—or for someone to make him stop, if that were even possible.

“Tch. Untouchable, you say? Don’t mess with me!” Martyr said, arms crossed, looking at Varius “It’s right in front of us, and yet…” he murmured, gazing at the ceiling.

“Bahahaha! That’s it, keep stepping on the book!” Nemo was amused by the situation, pointing his right index finger at the poor book.

“SILENCE!” Martyr exclaimed, banging his hands onto the tabletop once more.

Core opportunely snatched the book from beneath Martyr’s sole, dusted it off, and picked up where she left off. The blond stared at Zechariah with a serious look, and Zechariah returned the gaze.

“There’s nothing we can do, Martyr. Whatever is happening inside Lied right now, the Leader told us to wait for his spiritual development, remember? Our job is simply to nurture the boy’s inner growth, mkay?” Zechariah folded his arms and said in a peremptory tone, though with little desire to argue.

Martyr rose from his chair, pressing his hands on the table. After a few seconds of silence, the blond headed for the door, stopping momentarily beside Zechariah.

“Right. Sure” Martyr said blandly.

The blond kept walking unhurriedly toward the exit. No one wanted to add anything, as the Leader’s orders were meant to be obeyed. The only reaction worth noting came from Varius, who watched Martyr intently from his seat with deep distrust.

The rebellious blond closed the door, leaned against it, and slowly raised his head—he couldn’t contain his bloodlust, to the point where fiendish pupils manifested in his eyes, matching an expression of sheer cruelty and perversity worthy of a snake.

[END OF CHAPTER]